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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021874">How to Raise the Dead</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecatetheviolet/pseuds/Hecatetheviolet'>Hecatetheviolet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danny Phantom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loving Your Wierd Dead Children, One Shot Collection, Secret Identity, Sibling Bonding, dannymay2020, ghost hunger, good parents jack and maddie, inhuman Danny, parenting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:42:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecatetheviolet/pseuds/Hecatetheviolet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>A field guide for new parents of the recently deceased.</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danny Fenton &amp; Jack Fenton, Danny Fenton &amp; Jazz Fenton, Fenton Family - Relationship, Jack Fenton/Maddie Fenton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>504</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Local Time: 0430</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A one shot series of the Fenton family for Dannymay 2020</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dannymay day 1: Eyes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack is up at 5, as usual. He’s always been a farm boy; getting up with the sun is in his blood.</p><p>Most mornings start easy: a trip downstairs while everyone else is still asleep, only birds in the quiet air, making up some coffee, occupying his hands with his next sewing project while the sun rises, getting breakfast going by 6, helping the kids rush out the door for school, then settling into the lab for the day. Maddie won’t be up til 7 herself, a later riser than anyone else in the family, mostly from keeping up so late in the lab. Jazz often joins him around 6, as bright eyed and bushy tailed as himself in the early mornings. Danny used to be up with him, though he’d yawn about it and Jack’s probably the reason for his coffee addiction, but since high school started he’s joined Maddie in sleeping in late. Jack misses that quiet companionship, and it would probably be better if he was up to get his homework done early instead of whenever he did it later at night, like Jack used to do, back in the day. But he’s been a bit off, not used to the new workload and responsibilities just yet. Jack won’t wake him. Let the boy sleep in a bit; he’s earned it.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>So when he goes downstairs one morning early in May, no one else is around. He doesn’t expect anyone to be. Not even himself; it’s only 0430. But the neighbor’s cats are making a ruckus outside and while Jack’s not usually one to be woken by such noises, things happen. Too used to city sounds, animal noises have become unfamiliar to him over the years. Might as well make the most of it and get this quilting finished up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But when he goes into the kitchen, something stays his hand from the light. Good instinct for trouble is part of being raised a ghost hunter, of being raised on a farm so near the border and the forest with it’s wolves and poachers, so when the feeling hits, Jack stays still. Takes in the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Empty coffee pot, stove’s off, no mud or ectoplasm on the floor, door’s locked up tight, shield’s down this week due to lack of activity, green light spills out of the basement doorway. The too-dark, pre-dawn light is utterly unfamiliar with that green tinge to it. It bounces off the white tile like a liquid stain rather than refraction from the portal downstairs, which was shut and sealed the last Jack saw of it. Maddie didn’t need it open for anything that he can recall, and she certainly wouldn’t leave it unattended. Jack crosses to the fridge with quick but quiet steps and checks the work calendar. No portal maintenance for another week, nothing active in the lab till Tuesday.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No reason for it to be open now, staining the morning like that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With an ectogun from the weapons drawer beside the cutlery in his fist, Jack approaches the lab. Creeps down the stairs one at a time, the cement eating ice into his socks. The blaster goes around the handrail first, then Jack peeks out into the cavernous room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The portal is half open, everything is green. A figure stands before the portal, in front of their newest invention, looking over a large piece of paper. The unnatural light sets them in silhouette, makes the scene into a flat paper display in a shadow box. The Fenton Purefyer. The schematics?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maddie?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His wife was still in bed as expected the last he saw her, but maybe she snuck down while he was in the shower, struck by sudden inspiration. It’s happened, just very rarely. But Jack likes to think that he knows Maddie, knows the shape of her body thrown into stark relief by ectoplasm, and this isn’t her. He’s as sure of that as he was of something being wrong.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He usually overexcites himself to counter the energy drain and terror aura of ghosts, but today. This too dark morning, in his own house, something is <em>wrong</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> He takes the safety off the blaster, creeps down one more stair -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> The figure moves. Jack freezes. Remembers holding a very different gun, watching into the forest with the same baited breath, the same terror-instinct of the supernatural keeping him still, guarding a house of sleeping family. He shakes off the flash of memory, focuses on the present.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> The figure walks away from the Purefyer, sets an empty battery cell back into the charger along the wall. Removes a full one. Does something with it that Jack can’t get at from this angle. Goes back to the schematics. Turns away, towards the main lab. Still away from the stairs, but now Jack can see a bit more clearly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> It’s hard not to see. With the brightly glowing power cell in his mouth and eyes like stoplights, it’s hard not to see Danny’s face in the gloom. He steps further into the lab, holding the schematics at arms length, probably looking at them - but with eyes like that, Jack can’t tell. He’s in his NASA pajamas. No socks. No hazmat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> The end of the power cell ticks down a notch, goes dead like the ashes of a cigarette. Drained. Danny frowns around it, the expression overly distinct in the green, and sets the schematics down on the drafting table. Takes up a pencil from the bin and erases a few things, fills them in again with something else. A few changes to the calculations on the side of the page, a line or two in the schematic itself. The cell ticks down again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> He returns to the machine, not a sound coming from his feet on the floor even though the empty room echoes something fierce on a normal day. A bolted side panel pops off in his hands, and he sets in aside. Reaches in with bare hands and does something that makes the small screen on the front of the machine turn on. He frowns again, face turned dangerously toward the stairs, and does something else that makes a warning error pop up. A red fatality error. Danny sits back on his heels and sighs greatly, luminous eyes closing for a few seconds. The last notch empties out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Whatever he’s doing is done: the panel goes back on, the power switch is flipped to turn off the screen, and he lopes back over to the portal side table to return the empty power cell to the charger.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Jack. Creeps back up the stairs. Puts the blaster on the counter and starts a pot of coffee.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Waits. Waits.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> The pot crackles and splutters, out of water. Jack blinks at the sudden noise, realizes he’s been staring at the open lab door for at least ten minutes. The portal light is off. No Danny. The clock reads 0500.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Jack picks the blaster back up and goes to the doorway. Dark. He flips on the light like nothing’s wrong with today, stares down the stair well, half expecting to be met with a sight he can’t deal with. The empty landing is somehow worse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> The lab is empty. Portal closed and sealed. Not a hair out of place. The schematics are preliminary for the mock up sitting in the middle of the lab; there were erase marks and rewrites aplenty to begin with. Jack can’t tell the difference.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> The charging station is darker than it should be. The cells are refilling, but the highest one is only on the third notch out of five.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Jack returns to the kitchen. Fixes himself a cup of coffee. Waits for his family to wake up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Can’t shake the sight of green eyes staring into the morning darkness out of his head, even when he’s looking into blue.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. gloves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hi, honey,” Maddie greets Danny over the phone, stepping over the active project lines in the lab. All she’s got on the table right now is denatured ectoplasm, but it’s finicky enough with electricity that she doesn’t want to risk the shock. Or the third phone this year.</p><p>“Hi, mom. Are you busy?” If she hadn’t checked the caller ID, she’d never have placed his voice. There’s more white noise than words. Honestly, these phones might just be too cheap, with how pitifully they pick up a solid signal. Danny’s phone is the worst of the four. Always dropping calls and spitting static.</p><p>“No, the only experiments on today are the new shield and the dailies. I’ve got time to pick you up, if that’s what you need?”</p><p>There’s a long silence on the other end. Static crackles loudly in her ear. It’s past four. He must have had detention again. They really need to talk to him about that.</p><p>“Danny? Can you hear me?” She asks, heading up the stairs for better reception.</p><p>“Sorry, you broke up. Did you say something about a shield?” He finally asks.</p><p>“Oh, yes, we’re testing the newest shield over the house tonight. It should deflect up to level seven entities without a power surge. But it’s already up and running with no issues, so it’s fine if you need picked up.”</p><p>There is another long silence while Maddie waits for her words to reach him. They might not have regular 9-to-5 jobs, but they do try to keep a scheduled workflow for the kids. It’s never a problem for them to take off time outside of designated active experiments. Danny’s always been hesitant about interrupting them, even still. It’s still quiet. Maddie frowns and pulls the slightly over-warm phone out from between her cheek and her shoulder to glance at the screen. Almost misses Danny’s response.</p><p>“Actually,” His voice echoes, tinny and far away, “I was going to ask if I could stay over at Tucker’s tonight.”</p><p>Maddie fumbles the phone as realization slams into her. Holds it to her chest for a long, silent moment, eyes closed in the kitchen. It’s like his transition all over again. Danny, hesitant and uncertain, trying very hard not to say anything. Maddie, putting her steel toed boot in her mouth.</p><p>She raises the phone back to her ear in time to hear Danny.</p><p>“Are you still there? Can you hear me, mom?”</p><p>“Yes, yes baby, I hear you. Of course you can stay at Tuckers if you want. Although -” Maddie slams a pot into the sink, leaning over it. “Oh, damn. There it goes.”</p><p>“Mom? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart, I’m fine. The new switchback we built into this shield is a prototype for better power conversion. We’ve been waiting for it to overheat and blow all day. Looks like it’s down for the night. Will you be coming home for dinner first?”</p><p>Maddie sets the pot quietly on the stove. Dented. Heads back down stairs. Flips the switch on the new shield. Listens to the crackle of electricity and white noise and ectospectrum interference on Danny’s end of the call. Sits heavy in the chair. Waits through the silence while her baby decides whether to trust her or not.</p><p>“Okay,” Danny’s small voice filters through. “I’ll be home in a few minutes.”</p><p>“Okay. Okay. I love you, sweetie. I’ll see you soon?”</p><p>“Love you too, mom. Bye.”</p><p>Maddie breathes a huge breath. Eases her gloves off her hands. No more barriers between her and her son. Not tonight. Not anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. doors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>dannymay2020; doors</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack gets back late from the grocery store. 8 pm. He usually goes at 7 am on Saturday, but. Well.</p><p>Danny is asleep in the living room like Jack left him, their latest quilt bunched up around his small form. No backing. Hasn’t even been pressed yet. Fresh and new and covered in tiny strings. </p><p>It’s been a while since they worked on a project together. </p><p>Granny squares of cartoon ghosts with happy faces ring a large, detailed paper piecing of the Fenton Portal. It’s done all up in floral pastels. True soft quilt colors. Jack’s grown to prefer bright neons and the signature Fenton green, but an old fashioned quilt is good, too. It near matches the much smaller one framed on the wall. Danny’s first quilt, though of course Jack did most of it at the time. The picture beside it is Danny holding up the finished project, smiling big, missing some milk teeth. About third grade, if Jack remembers right. Or was that the year he skipped ahead? Well, whatever it was, it was Danny’s First Quilt Year.</p><p>And this one, now, with the door to the land of the dead lovingly rendered as the centerpiece, will not be the last.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-hr">
  <hr class="tmblr-truncated"/>
</div><p> </p><p>3 AM. The Fenton Phones buzz with a silent alarm. Maddie sleeps through it, Jack wakes up. Lays there for a while. Listens to the shower run, the lack of footsteps in the hall upstairs. Danny’d disappeared around 11 pm. Vanished from his room in the usual way. </p><p>Jack eventually falls back to sleep, relieved his boy is home. For the night, at least. </p><p>He wakes at 5, as usual, then comes down to find Danny sitting on the davenport, wrapped in one of the new fabric bolts like a blanket and very much asleep. His hair is the special kind of mess that tossing and turning with wet hair makes. The bags beneath his eyes are so deep they look painted on. True bruises. Jack sets a slippered foot on the wood floor under the stairs and Danny jolts awake. Instant reaction. Too tired to know what to do with it. Squints at Jack in the early morning dark and interrupts himself with a huge yawn. Damn does he have some chompers.</p><p>“How ‘bout some coffee, son?” Jack offers.</p><p>Danny slurs out a positive, then snuggles back down. Jack gets a single cup brewing and watches the sun rise with his son.</p><p>They’re working on tracing pattern pieces when the girls come down the stairs. Both dressed for the day, Maddie about two hours early. Oh, Jazz’s tour is today. That’s right. Jack’s been distracted.</p><p>“Are you coming, Dad? Danny?” Jazz’s tone shifts slightly as she leans around to catch Danny laying on the carpet, half asleep and up to his elbows in wrinkled pattern paper.</p><p>“Danny, are you alright, honey?” Maddie asks, looking less drastically tired, but equally glassy eyed and unhappy with the hour. Like mother like son.</p><p>“Oh, you know how quilting goes, Mads!” Jack intervenes. “We were up late last night, early morning, too. I’ll stay and keep him company. Unless you need me to be there, Jazz?”</p><p>Maddie blinks once, slowly, looking intently at Jack for a moment before yawning and heading to find her purse. Jazz looks away from her open appraisal of Danny. Jack doesn’t want to turn and look, make them suspicious or anything, so he’s left wondering what she’s looking for. If Danny’s giving her some kind of code, begging for her to stay, to take him with, not to leave him home alone with Jack. Whatever she sees must be positive. Or maybe unconscious. She doesn’t take her eyes off Jack when she says, all innocence and honesty,</p><p>“No, it’s alright, Dad. It’s just one tour. I’m staying to talk to the career councilor afterwards, anyway. No reason to make you all wait.”</p><p>“Alrighty then, Jazzy. Let me know how it goes. See you later, dear.” He kisses his tired wife goodbye. Passes a note into her pocket. Waves them both out the door for their own early morning. </p><p>Normally, he’d go to the supermarket at this time, but Danny’s dead on his - absolutely exhausted, and Jack would rather keep him home safe for a change. He deserves it.</p><p>The front door clicks shut, and it echoes. Jack lets out a heavy breath.</p><p>“Want some breakfast, Danno?” He asks, turning to find Danny blinking heavily, eyes scrunching like it hurts. But he’s sitting up, mostly, and clutching the cup of decaf Jack slipped some ectoplasm in like he’s forgotten about it.</p><p>Jack kneels down beside him and sets a hand on his shoulder, gently straightening him up.</p><p>“Come ‘ere,” He offers his arm, taking the cup in his other hand. Danny flops on to his shoulder immediately. Mumbles, “I’m not a baby,” but yawns again and doesn’t even try to stand on his own. Jack lifts him easily. Calling Danny 90 pounds would be generous. Jack might not be into weight training any more, but he’ll always be strong enough to support his kids. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to cart either of them around. It’s nice. He hadn’t realized he missed it.</p><p>He puts the cup on the kitchen table and sets Danny in his seat.</p><p>“Alright, what’ll it be, bud?” </p><p>“Pancakes,” Danny mumbles, blowing on the cold coffee. Looks a little more present now.</p><p>Jack readies the ingredients and gets Danny stirring. Pulls the old pan out from the pantry. Pauses. Maybe they shouldn’t use this anymore. It was a gift from Vlad, freshman year, half gag gift, half honest peace offering to end the Prank War. A novelty Halloween pan with two large, pancake sized sheet ghosts. It’s a bit dented and well loved from the years, but it’s a good pan. Jack’d loved the thing, and did what any good best friend would do and bought Vlad the hard stuff he liked, but couldn’t really afford, as thanks. He only got to drink half of it.</p><p>Vlad’s his best friend. But. No more missed connections. No more distance. No more silence between loved ones when one is hurting. No more carefully closed doors. He sets the pan on the stove to heat.</p><p>After breakfast, they sit together in the living room and finish cutting out the quilt pieces. Danny’d always liked that part the best; tracing from the straightedge and making everything square up. It’s quiet, but peaceful. They work together just as well as they did - what, last year? Has it really only been that long since Danny had last joined him in the early morning? Has Jack gotten that lax, as a parent, to not notice? Attributing all the odd little changes Danny’s gone through to puberty and growing up and new school all sounded so sensible at the time. They still do. Of course they do. Who in their right mind would ever put money on what Jack’s betting on?</p><p>But Jack’s got eyes for a reason, his grandmama used to say. So he’d been using them. Took her good words and true voice, but set the rifle back on the shelf to cool. Not everything breeds fear. Not anymore. Not when Jack’s studied ectoplasm for long enough to understand that the instinctual fear ghosts bring out in humans is nothing more than smoke and mirrors, nothing that they can help doing. Danny isn’t a menace on purpose, not in this at least. Jack sets some quiet music up to cancel out the white noise and does his best not to let Danny in his peripherals. </p><p>Honestly, it’s getting easier and easier. Looks like there’s an acclimation period followed by a threshold shifting. If Jack just keeps aware around his son, he’ll stop being afraid altogether. He’s glad.</p><p>By the time dinner rolls around, poor Danny looks fit to collapse. He’d stubbornly powered through, pretending he’d slept last night and didn’t need to head up for a rest. Now he’s holding the edge of the quilt while Jack handstitches in a few details. Jack didn’t trust him with a needle. Is glad of it when he reaches over and gently pushes Danny back and he goes down like a sack of rocks. Stays down. Passed out instantly. Jack snips the last thread and lays the quilt top over him, smoothing his wild hair gently.</p><p>Tacks a note to the table right in front of his face and heads down to the store. He’ll probably sleep through it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He does. Jack makes up something quick for himself and sets three portions in the fridge. His girls’ll be home late, like he asked. He probably should have talked with Maddie first, but the opportunity came too quick. He’s sure she’ll understand. Maybe she even got something out of Jazz.</p><p>Nah, probably not. Jazz is one tough cookie. He’s rather proud.</p><p>Of both of them.</p><p>He turns the lock and gently lifts Danny from the davenport. Expects him to stay down, but he squirms and squints up at Jack. </p><p>“Hey, Danno.” He greets the face that’s too tired to be suspicious properly. “Was gonna take you to your room for the night. Is that good?” Jack pauses, considers his words, his hold, carefully, says, “Or do you wanna go downstairs?”</p><p>Danny’s eyes slip closed again, and his hand curls into the quilt. “Downstairs,” He mumbles.</p><p>Jack takes him down to the portal. Tugs the seat out from under the stairs and drags it closer to the vortex in the doorway. Gets Danny down for the night. He looks so relaxed. So green. </p><p>It’s still a strange thing, this boy of his. But just this one nice day, this little bit of trust Jack’s painstakingly wrangled from him, feels like a victory. Like a door that’s been firmly locked has been eased open a crack. There’s less between them. Less distance, even if only a little.</p><p>Jack kisses his son’s forehead and leaves him to sleep in the lab.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. heat + horror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>dannymay2020; heat + horror</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maddie stands at the door to the basement, hazmat tied down around her waist, staring into the green dark. To her left, the cicada scream en mass. The refrigerator hums at her back. The portal buzzes below. The cold air that swirls up the steps is incredible against the summer heatwave. Maddie. Wants to go down. Hesitates, still.</p><p>Danny is down there.</p><p>Maddie loves her son, but she loves her daughter, too, and knows better than to bother Jazz when she’s trying to finish a paper and watch the finale to her latest K-drama at the same time (again) and expect anything but getting snapped at and increasing her stress. The experience is just new, with Danny. He was always the relaxed one, but once it hit 80 degrees in the house, the basement became <em>his </em>domain, with the same low tolerance for interruption. With an extra edge of physical discomfort and medical concern. Maddie just doesn’t want to upset him further. It feels like she does that all too often, but Danny just won’t say anything when she does. It’s hard to understand him. She wants to, but he’s pulled so far away from them already...</p><p>“Hey, mom.” Jazz stands in the entryway, kicking her flip flops off, two bags of gas station ice slung over her shoulders. “He moved yet?” She asks.</p><p>“No, I don’t think so. I was just about to check,” Maddie offers, stepping in to take the second bag from Jazz. She’d stepped out to get some water. Hadn’t gone back. Condensation from the ice leaks down her shoulders, sticks her hair to her neck. Instant relief.</p><p>“Alright.” She says. “You coming down? It’s cold.”</p><p>And Maddie hesitates at the mouth of the threshold, for just a moment.</p><p>“Sounds nice,” She tells the stairs, hidden under the clanging of Jazz’s steps.</p><p>At the bottom, all she can see is the ring of lawnchairs and the little blow up kiddie pool that Jazz is dumping her bag of ice in. The clear vinyl tubing of the cheap outdoor furniture catches every refraction of green light from the open portal. An oversized alien dollhouse in Maddie’s lab. The smell of squeaky fresh plastic overwhelms the ectoplasm. The basement has always been climate controlled, and underground besides, so the downright frosty air that the open portal adds to the mix creates the strange atmosphere of a sauna in winter. Inverted.</p><p>But the chilliest thing by far is Danny.</p><p>Maddie finally gets a good look at him when Jazz collapses back into her own chair, sticking her feet into the pool with a great heaving sigh. Maddie appreciates her running to the store for them. It’s nearly 110 out. She goes to dump her part of the ice in and nearly fumbles to keep from pouring it straight over Danny’s head. He’s buried up to his chest, now. What she thought were odd shadows from the portal are actually his folded knees, the only other part not under ice. His eyes are glazed and dull, staring sightlessly into the green vortex, his head pillowed on the wet plastic rim of the pool. Soaked hair drawn back by one of Jazz’s headbands drips slowly onto the concrete floor. Maddie frowns at that. They specifically asked the kids to make sure nothing in the lab was exposed to water. Should have put a towel down.</p><p>She probably can’t blame Danny for lack of foresight. He doesn’t look good.</p><p>“Hi, sweetie,” Maddie whispers, tucking the ice in around his legs instead.</p><p>His blank expression doesn’t change as he belatedly mouths ‘hi’ back to her.</p><p>“Drink your slush,” Scolds Jazz, kicking at the ice idly. Danny’s buried hands slowly tip the half melted slushie toward his face. The straw rests in his mouth for a while, but Maddie’s fairly sure he doesn’t drink any. Her poor baby. Jazz had picked it up for him the first time she went to the store, nearly three hours ago.</p><p>Maddie pulls her hands from the ice and wipes them on her shirt. Goes to the monitoring station set up on the side of the portal. The nodes taped to Danny’s neck are probably the only things keeping him from fully submerging himself. His oxygen levels are lower than his usual terrifying baseline of 87%, hovering in the 84-86% range, and his heartrate is just short of clinical death. Most worryingly, his temperate is reading at nearly 80 - a deadly fever, considering his normal 71.3.</p><p>Maddie wishes they knew how to really help him. This feels strangely like a - not like a <em>test</em>, not really, but like something is being withheld from them. Like Danny knows what to do, but is still too scared to tell them. Like it’s something he doesn’t want them to know, another little secret on the pile. A tiny declaration of loss of trust.</p><p>Or he’s afraid of them knowing.</p><p>Not that he could tell them, right now. He’s been basically unresponsive to even the most drastic of stimuli since his internal temp hit 75 an hour ago. Jack had driven out for the lawn furniture around that time, helped wrangle Danny out of the bathtub and into the lab for better monitoring, then disappeared again a few minutes ago. Maddie has an inkling of what he’s up to, so she’ll just hold down the fort and see what happens.</p><p>But <em>Danny</em>. Looking at this array, she has the clinging idea that this would be easier for him if he was a ghost. But even now, he’s so hesitant about letting them see him. Has never, in word or deed, trusted them with that. It’s an open secret. What he is.</p><p>Who he is.</p><p>Jazz knows; Maddie knows she known for some time now. Maddie knows. Does Jack? Maddie knows. She tries to imagine that alien presence in this little family tableau. More green in the air. An extra buzz of static under the portal. White hair, dripping. Maddie knows, but it feels like she knows less than she did three weeks ago.</p><p>She’s seen Phantom with her own eyes. Seen him fly and fight and snarl like an animal. Seen him bounce and smile and joke. How does he do it? Maybe Maddie just isn’t ready for the perfect intersection of those things yet. Does - does Danny’s ghost leave his body?</p><p>Is Maddie really ready to face her sons’ corpse and his ghost at the same time?</p><p>Jazz splashes suddenly, feet shifting, head tipped back dramatically off the edge of her seat, hair in a huge bun, wearing her only pair of shorts. Little embroidered ghosts on the hem. Would he electrify the pool, if he changed?</p><p>Maddie sucks in a breath and drags her eyes back to the monitor. Maybe it would be better if he did. Actually. The shock might be what he needs to stabilize his heart. He’s obviously reliant on cold temperatures to facilitate stronger conductivity of his electrical impulse based neurology. Like any other ghost. He’s losing stability of consciousness. Unable to rely on the physical, chemical reaction based impulses of the li - of humans. Maddie’s trying not to think about it. She doesn’t want to think about it. The monitor won’t tell her anything else.</p><p>Danny, the ghost, <em>Danny</em>, her son, is suffering from mild destabilization and his human body is too close to brain dead to keep him from -</p><p>God, Maddie is glad she doesn’t know.</p><p>Jack, bless that man, saves her from her thoughts by clambering down the stairs.</p><p>“Icecream!” He calls, voice pitched less exuberantly loud than usual. In deference of the small lab space, empty of the usual noise of running machines, or in deference to Danny. Or her own nerves. Jack hands Jazz a pint of strawberry pistachio and a spoon, sets a bag near the pool and then appears at Maddie’s side. Kisses her cheek. Glances at the monitor.</p><p>“How’s he doing?” He asks, handing her her own pint and a fork. Pecan Caramel soymilk.</p><p>“Not much worse. But we don’t know beyond his baselines, so it could mean anything. Temperature’s been stable for the last twenty minutes.” Maddie digs out the first pecan she sees and keeps it in her mouth to cool her sensitive teeth. Offers nothing else. Jack can read the screen. If he arrives to the same conclusion, then they’ll talk about it upstairs. Away from the kids. Hopefully, Danny’s too busy barely existing to overhear, if it comes down to it.</p><p>Jack nods, bullshooter blue eyes sweeping over the monitor. One huge, extremely hot hand rests on her back, goes to rub soothingly, but Maddie shoos him with her fork.</p><p>“You’re cold!” He says delightedly, sticking his hands on the folds of her turned down hazmat. He spares her a smile, then snaps his attention back to the screen. Lingers on Danny’s oxygen levels. “Well,” Jack says, straightening up, “Let’s try to get his internal temperature down a bit, then. Come on, Danno!”</p><p>He unties the cloth bag and pulls out a full gallon of icecream. There is no room in the freezer for that.</p><p>“Okay, buddy, I got us a real treat, straight from the farmer’s market creamery, you know, the people with the ecto-infected cows we helped out last spring? Got us a discount! Anyway, it’s custom. Chocolate icecream, fudge pieces, cacao nibs, coconut shavings, sprinkles, cookie bits, and those little soft dough chunks -” He cuts off, leans in closer to the pool, watches Danny intensely for a few seconds. “Yep! Extra cookie pieces. Wanna try some?”</p><p>Jack sticks two spoons in the open gallon and sets it aside. Gently eases the mostly ignored red slushie out of Danny’s hands and passes it off to Jazz. She doesn’t hesitate to pour some of it over her icecream. Maddie shudders. Bites her pecan. Takes a seat.</p><p>Jack pulls a shop towel out of his shorts pocket and soaks it in the pool, then wipes his face with it before slinging it around his neck. Takes a tiny spoonful of the icecream and starts to set it in Danny’s direction.</p><p>“Just try a bit, Danno. I’ll let you drink dry ice again,” He cajoles. Maddie whips her head up to glare at him. Jazz shrieks with her mouth closed, prevented from yelling properly by a well timed frozen strawberry. Jack ignores them both. He’d better have a damn good reason and some damn good results.</p><p>He gets Danny to eat a little, at least. He’d refused dinner last night, and it’s almost 7 PM, now. After a while, Jack leans in again. All Maddie can hear from a bare few feet away is a quiet, wet little rasp.</p><p>Jack beams his most reassuring grin at their son. “Of course it’s got ectoplasm in it; it’s for you, Danny-boy!” He says. And. That might be the first time any of them have put it to words. Admitted it out loud. It should feel like a taboo broken, but somehow, it eases a little relief into the atmosphere. A confession they all share.</p><p>Then Jack frowns a bit. Eyebrows drawn down in concern when he says “Is it not enough?”</p><p>Danny shakes his head, a light tremble of motion. The wet plastic squeaks under his neck. Lies still. Jack sits back, looks up to Maddie. Jazz is leaned back in her seat, staring down at Danny with a sharp frown of disapproval on her face. A fierce set to her eyes that tells Maddie everything she needs to know.</p><p>“We’ll get you more, sweetie,” Maddie tests the waters carefully, kneeling down across from Jack, sets a hand on Danny’s drying hair, keeps Jazz in her sights. Danny closes his eyes and shakes his head again, turning further into her palm and sighing quietly. A low, tired sound of dismissal. Not for Maddie. Jazz looks away, guilt and worry plain on her face. Bites her lip. Lids her icecream and mumbles an excuse of a goodbye, looking a bit mutinous as she leaves.</p><p>Maddie has to wonder if she should step back from this. Let Jazz do whatever needs to be done that Danny is hiding from them. But she can’t. These are her children; they shouldn’t need to be providing something for themselves. It’s her duty to care for them.</p><p>But. She is also an ectobiologist. Knows damn well what ghosts need. Has done in-field observations on this sort of thing for at least a decade.</p><p>It’s not the amount of ectoplasm that matters. It’s the source.</p><p>They can’t provide what Danny needs from the lab.</p><p>Sure, they’ve never seen Phantom feeding, but he’s so rarely seen at all. Elusive. Non-normative behavior. Maybe -</p><p>An incomplete hypothesis has never sat well with her. Her son being miserably sick while she has the power to help him is not sitting any better.</p><p>“Danny,” She says firmly, gently taking his cold face in her hands and wincing at the mincing slowness of his pulse under his jaw. “Please, just tell us what’s wrong, honey.”</p><p>Something thumps upstairs. What is Jazz doing? Maddie had assumed she left the house. To get. Something. Bring something back? Get a ghost they know to help?</p><p>Maddie’s seen ghosts negotiate and willingly feed from each other. The statistically significant ratio of mutual encounter to violent attack was one of the things that tipped the scales for Maddie and Jack on whether ghosts have the capacity for civilized society or not.</p><p>If Danny has some sort of pact or agreement with a local ghost, then Maddie is intensely interested in learning every detail of it. As both his mother, and as an ectobiologist. Jazz probably has extensive notes.</p><p>Upstairs, something drags across the floor. Maddie jumps at the noise.</p><p>“I’ll go check,” Jack offers, glancing guiltily back to Danny before heading up the stairs.</p><p>Maddie turns her attention back to Danny and actually feels her heart skip a beat when she finds him staring up at her with dull, glazed eyes. His face too-still and eerie in the green light of the buzzing portal. It dyes him colors he shouldn’t be. She takes in a breath, and calms herself, confused by her own reaction. She’s been exposed to high levels of ectoplasm for nearly two decades. Maddie lost her innate terror-reaction to ectoentities years ago. This is completely unfamiliar to her.</p><p>But the way Danny’s too blank face flashes into guilt as he flinches and tries to pull away is not. It’s the same reaction as Jazz earlier.</p><p>Guilt. Something withheld. Upstairs, something drags against the wood floors again. Slow, deliberate.</p><p>“Danny -” She starts, concerned. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and turns away from her. Mouths something that she reads as <em>sorry</em>. A creak on the stairs. The lights flicker. Maddie jolts back in a crouch immediately, hand falling to where her weapons should be. One hand on Danny. Assuring his location. Her other hand closes on nothing. Of course not. Maddie doesn’t wear her weapons around Danny. Not any more. There’s nothing there. She forces herself into a more relaxed stance with some difficulty.</p><p>What could they have upstairs for this? Surely there’s not another ghost living in their house? Maddie would like to think that a second instance would be ridiculous. Maybe a hidden freezer of ectoplasmic samples? She looks down at the human ghost in her lab. Maybe he needs a rare type of ectoplasm, due to his unusual biology? His half human biology.</p><p>Half human. Needing ectoplasm and emotion, but also needing food. Maddie’s heart picks up uncomfortably, sits high in her throat. At the other end of the room is the wall safe with the Nightingale journals. The myths and accounts and legends of violent ghosts. Hunted for their danger to humanity. Their hunger. Maddie and Jack have long discounted or disproved those old folk tales.</p><p>But then again, they’d also disproved the existence of something like Danny.</p><p>“Danny -” She tries again, watching the way he’s turned away from her intently. Mouth pressed in a thin, unhappy line. Every ounce of him tense, entombed in ice.</p><p>Jack bounds down the stairs. Maddie jolts to her feet. He’s got the bulky old TV from the sitting room in his arms. Maddie’s heart is pounding, her mind blank.</p><p>“We’ve got the cure, Mads!” He cries. Jazz follows, carrying the DVD player and a stack of DVDs.</p><p>In the pool, Danny shudders strongly enough to stir the ice. Moans out “No,” loudly enough to be heard.</p><p>“Shut up, Danny.” Jazz says firmly. “You need this.”</p><p>Jack finishes plugging the makeshift entertainment center together. Jazz sets the DVDs down and sticks one in the player. Maddie’s seen every title on the pile, but doesn’t recognize them from anywhere in the house. All horror films, many classic. Monster movies. Slasher flicks. It’s so disingenuous from where her mind had been that she’s left frozen.</p><p>“They’re from Sam,” Jazz explains. “For when <em>somebody </em>runs out of juice.” She spares Danny an annoyed glare and hits play.</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh</em>. Maddie looks down at the miserable little ghost in the pool, her shadow cast long over his morose, guilty expression. He’s so pale. The colors from the TV flicker against the vinyl and ice and ectoplasm in surreal flashes. Some loud sound blares from the old speakers with more static than usual and Maddie jolts again. All her senses on high alert, an undercurrent of unnatural fear flooding her cerebellum. An artificially induced state of terror. The buzzing she’s been ignoring with all the ease of overexposure is Danny’s aura, set to 18 hz.</p><p>There hasn’t been a ghost attack in nearly a week. All the local specters retreating to the other side of the portal as the heat wave rages on theirs. Danny hasn’t been able to emphathically power himself in a week. Maybe longer.</p><p>Ghosts feed on fear.</p><p>He’s been overwhelmed with the heatwave, unable to patrol his territory, probably not physically fed in a while, and emotionally weakened. Of course he’s destabilizing.</p><p>Maddie lets out a breath of relief. This is something easily remedied, at least. She leans in and kisses Danny’s forehead. In apology. In absolution. Feels guilty for her distrust of him with such an irrational idea. Feels the rekindled instinctual hyperawareness of a ghost near to her vulnerable human throat. Ignores it. Helps Jack finish moving the chairs closer to the pool. Sets her icecream back on her lap. Settles in and lets herself overthink the timing of the next jumpscare. Watches her little ghost relax slowly as he draws strength from their shared, controlled fear. Wonders if he has a vomeronasal organ, with the way his mouth is a little open. If it helps with emphathic filtering, or if it’s psychosomatic. Wonders if he feels better. Fishes his hand out of the ice and holds it tight until he squeezes her back.</p><p>It’s been a while since they’ve had a family movie night.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Family Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Day 30: Family</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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    <p>Something prickles the back of Jack’s head like a needle. Cold and sharp and insistent. He’s learning to ignore it.</p>
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    <p>He forces good cheer into every one of his molecules and sets the lid on the last sandwich before turning to the kitchen table.</p>
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    <p>“Lunch is served!” He bellows as brightly as he can.</p>
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    <p>Danny and Jazz both do a horrible job of playing at not having been staring. Jazz does bad because she doesn’t bother to hide it any, just holds her newest book over her entire face. Danny does bad because his stare feels like being held at knife point. Jacks beams at both of them, not bothering to force any eye contact or press the obvious issue. Not yet. Today is Family Day and by the gods they are going to enjoy it if it’s the last thing Jack does.</p>
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  <p>“Thank you, Jack,” Says Maddie, leaving her gloves on the counter to fill in the last seat at the table.</p>
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  <p>“Why is it so green?” Jazz asks, carefully raising the bread of her sandwich to glare suspiciously at the tuna salad.</p>
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  <p>“Dill, straight from the garden!” Jack lies enthusiastically.</p>
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  <p>“Oh?” Says Maddie, “I thought everything had died again this year.”</p>
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  <p>“Well, I cut it down today. It was wilted pretty badly. Maybe next year!”</p>
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  <p>“Sorry, dear. It’s just that the contamination in this neighborhood is so bad. Maybe we could rig up some sort of environmental shield?” Maddie offers, and Jack appreciates it. He genuinely misses gardening. Even if it is a small price to pay for everything else he’s gained.</p>
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  <p>“I don’t know...” Jazz mutters, still squinting at her lunch. “A plant that’s absorbed that much ectoplasm can’t taste any good.”</p>
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  <p>“I think it’s fine,” Says Danny around his own sandwich.</p>
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  <p>“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Maddie chides lightly.</p>
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  <p>“Danny!” Jazz hisses, sounding downright scandalized.</p>
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  <p>“It’s fine, Jazz.” Danny soothes absently. His water glass hits the table lightly, but with a sharp finality to it that makes Maddie fumble the pepper shaker and Jazz glare. The ceiling light brightens noticeably.</p>
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  <p>“I like dad’s cooking the best. No offense.” He adds.</p>
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  <p>Maddie scoffs, fond. Then sucks in a little gasp, sets her peppered sandwich carefully back on her plate.</p>
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  <p>Jack catches her wrist under the table before she can say anything. Traces their codes for SAFE and QUIET over the back of her hand. Her gaze is scorching, but she leans back into her chair like she thinks her piano wire tense muscles can pass for casual relaxation if she mimics the form of it. And she wonders where Danny gets it from.</p>
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  <p>Jacks just smiles at her. She’ll probably have it down by the end of the day, now that the neat little spell of ignorance is broken. Hopefully she’ll take it better than Jack, who’s hoping on a prayer that things can stay the same for a little longer. Oh, sure, he wants things to be better, but as soon as one of the four little secret keepers at the table opens their mouth, it’s all going to change. And he’s selfishly unsure that he’s ready for that. Not yet. Just one more day, like this. At least one more nice day with his family. Then they can all turn and look that white elephant in the eye and ask it when it died.</p>
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  <p>For now, Jazz passes half her sandwich to Danny and sticks to the pretzels and store bought dip. Jack feels a bit like doing the same, but he forces himself to take another bite of his eerily cold, gooey tuna and ignores the all too familiar zing to it. He was originally going to make up a separate bowl for Danny, but as soon as he crossed the threshold to the kitchen, his son had appeared at the table and offered to help, then sat and watched him like a hawk when Jack told him to take it easy.</p>
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  <p>Jack can’t blame him, considering half the plants he’d torn out of the garden earlier. Besides, what kind of father would he be if he wasn’t willing to choke down a little ectoplasm if it made his son so happy?</p>
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  <p>Beside him, Maddie finishes studying the kids and takes up her own sandwich again, decision apparently made. Jack has to wonder if she’s seeing the same thing he is - how bright Danny’s eyes are, how the deep bags under them look lighter than they did ten minutes ago, the soft, worried frown on Jazz’s too mature face as she scans Maddie’s tense posture. They’re all just - looking out for each other. Brother and sister, united front. Mother and father, learning to meet them halfway.</p>
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  <p>Their family is going to be just fine.</p>
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  <p>...There is going to need to be a compromise on the ectoplasm diet however, because Jack has never had such a bad sandwich in his life.</p>
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  <p>“Alright!” Jack cheers, setting the last plate on the table. “Dinner is served!”</p>
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  <p>Jazz is the first one down, today. Been busy unpacking her clothes for summer break. She’d toyed with the idea of staying at the dorms with an internship, but Jack’s glad she decided to come home and take a break instead. He missed her. He ruffles her hair as she heads for the living room windows. Maddie and Danny’s voices echo up from the lab as they set aside their project for the day. Jack can’t recall if today’s a Mystery Danny Theatre Day, as he calls it, or an actual project. Well, whatever it is, he’s sure to hear all about it in a few minutes.</p>
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  <p>Jack absently arranges the setting to keep his hands busy while they wait. A bowl of salad. Fresh bread. Condiments. An array of side dishes spread between the settings. The last of the liver pate for himself, a plate of kimchi for Jazz and Maddie, and two types of ectoplasm for Danny. He’s quite proud of the main casserole dish: a contamination rating of 1.3! His lowest record yet. Hopefully Danny’ll get enough ectoplasm from everything else to be content. Jack’ll whip up dessert for him if not. As long as he can remember which jar of hot fudge sauce is the ecto and which is his, this time.</p>
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  <p>Maddie and Danny fill out their seats at the table, and Jack beams at them. Joins them with Jazz when she finishes closing the curtains. The lack of sunlight dims the house a bit, but Danny’s bright glow fills up the kitchen, bounces off the ceiling light and clatters off the silverware.</p>
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  <p>Jack is content to watch his family settle around the table together for a good meal. There’s no hesitation from Danny, no careful glances from Jazz. Maddie’s updates on her study of Phantom are punctuated by the boy himself. Well, man, almost. Jack is so glad he gets to watch his boy grow up, is grateful for the amazing differences he’s allowed to witness, for all the trust laying thick between them.</p>
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  <p>Jazz and Danny tease and poke at each other like they always have, and even though everything is different, Jack’s love for his family is the same.</p>
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